


Majesty

by Pixeled



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Ascension, Ballroom dance, Drunk on Power, M/M, Power Play, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rufus when he first becomes President, the cost of a life lived in servitude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25472365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: Rufus takes the Presidency, and whatever he wants.
Relationships: Reno/Tseng (Compilation of FFVII), Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Majesty

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Apashe “Majesty” (Instrumental) I couldn’t find the instrumental version on my streaming service so I just listened to it on YouTube. XD It’s the song Rufus and Tseng do their ballroom dance to.
> 
> I did not wake up thinking I was going to write an almost 4K long fic of a pairing I’ve never written before, but it be like that sometimes.

When Rufus took power, he called for a ball to be thrown in his honor.It was to be held in Junon, where there was a huge ballroom, never mind the inconvenience. The work it took to set it up was astronomical, especially because Rufus Shinra was extremely particular and if there was any hint of something he didn’t like, he got upset, and when Rufus Shinra was upset, heads rolled. Several people tried to tell him funds could be used in different ways, that time and energy could be spent in different ways, that Midgar was in a fragile spot, but he did not listen. Rufus Shinra did not listen. He barked orders, expected people to carry them out, and if they did not, they went missing. He had the Turks on a leash, after all. He sat in his father’s chair, stroking Dark Nation’s head, and called her a good girl when Tseng entered.

“Sir, preparations are complete.”

“That is good news. Have you detected any discord, Tseng?”

“The people are perplexed, if I might say, sir, but there is no discord, per se.”

“You may say. You have been loyal to me for many years, Tseng. It is custom for royalty to assert dominance upon coming into power,” Rufus said, his lips curling up into a wicked smile. “You will dance with me when I come into the ballroom.”

“Sir?”

“It is my desire. You will do it.”

“I was not dissenting,” Tseng said.

“Do not worry, I will lead. I know you probably don’t know how to dance.”

“I do not, I must confess. But doesn’t the taller person lead?”

“I will lead,” Rufus said with an air of finality.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alert me when the helicopter is ready,” Rufus said, waving Tseng away.

“It will be enough time for you to dress,” Tseng said.

“One more thing, Tseng.”

“Sir?”

“Behind you, on that chair. You are to wear that, not your usual Turk suit.”

“Sir,I..It is my duty to serve and protect you.”

“Oh, you will be armed beneath it. And you will instruct your Vice and other subordinates to keep an eye out for anything amiss while you are, shall we say, distracted? You will be able to fit your shoulder holster beneath it. Not that you will need it. And I have an excellent eye for measurements, you will see. It will fit you exactly.”

“Yes, sir,” Tseng said, picking up the outfit that was hidden beneath a suit bag. He took it and left to go to his apartment, which was on the 50th floor, which was convenient to him because it was just above the SOLDIER sim room and gym.

He opened the suit bag and took out the suit that was beneath it. He looked at it this way and that, confusion plainly written across his face. It was _white_. He’d probably never worn anything white in his life aside from button down shirts and the occasional short sleeve workout top, but that was usually hidden under his gi when he trained in the SOLDIER sim room.

This was a suit made entirely of white and it was reflective when he tore away the plastic. Not only was it reflective with a sheen, it had little jewels on the lapels, and it had tails, accompanied by a vest and a bow tie. He’d certainly never worn anything so flashy, so showy, and he _did not_ want to wear it, but there was no saying no to Rufus Shinra. There was a pair of shoes tucked into the bottom, which was a blessing because his next thought was “what kind of shoes am I even going to wear with this horror show?” All his shoes were black. The shoes were white with a wingtip, pointed slightly upward, and had bit of a heel.But they were his size, which he was baffled by. He made a disgusted face, placed the shoes on the bed, and began to undress. When he was stripped to his black boxer briefs and socks with their garters, he began to put on the suit Rufus had made for him, careful to conceal his sidearm in the tight suit.

When he put the shoes on and bent to tie them everything was indeed a perfect fit. It was more fitted to his body than his Turk suit, but he was able to move in it, and he supposed that was the point. He looked in the mirror. The utter black of his hair, the brown of his eyes, his pale complexion, all leant to the sharp contrast and the sense of white and black being in stark relief. And he bet Rufus’s suit matched but was even _more_ showy.

When he showed up on the helicopter pad Reno was there to greet him.

“What in the flying fuck?” Reno blinked, squinting and tilting his head this way and that. “The fuck ya wearin’, boss?”

“Rufus made me wear it. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I’m like…can I take a picture, for posterity?”

“Don’t you dare,” Tseng said.

“Oh, I’m sneaky. Pictures _will_ be taken.”

“I hate my life.” He took out his phone and alerted Rufus that his chopper was ready and Rude was going to fly him in.

“Excellent,” Rufus responded. “How does the suit fit, Tseng?”

“Fine, sir,” Tseng said.

“Good. I will see you soon for our _grand_ entrance.” Tseng slid his phone away.

“I bet Rufus is gonna look like a fuckin’ wedding cake if you look like this. No offense.”

“Offense very much taken. Just…fly. No commentary.” Tseng was frowning.

“You have to admit that this is fuckin’ hilarious. Why did he want you dressed like this in the first place?”

“You’ll see, I suppose,” Tseng said. Reno tapped his fingers on the side of the cockpit as he took up off the roof.

“This is gonna be obvious, boss, but anyone ever tell you that you’re no fun?”

“You tell me that on a constant basis, Reno.”

“Well, I mean, it’s still fuckin’ true.”

The rest of the ride was thankfully silent. Almost. Reno turned on the radio and sang along _very_ off key and Tseng’s eye twitched involuntarily. Not to mention, his stomach felt like a rock was rolling around in it. He was described as graceful, efficient, his movements almost like that of a dancer’s, but he didn’t _actually_ dance. What if he made a fool of Rufus? He might be executed. He lived every day of his life as if it was his last to be sure, but this felt different somehow.

When Reno landed, Tseng started to get off the helicopter pad immediately. “Hey, no goodbye kiss?” Reno asked, hanging out the side of the chopper after rolling the window down, laughing. Tseng just ignored him.

He walked into the ballroom’s back room to wait for Rufus. He opened the curtain a tiny amount. There were _hundreds_ of people out there, which only made his stomach flip. Minutes later Rufus walked into the back room. Tseng was right. Rufus was wearing something complementary. It was white, flowy, but showed off the pants beneath, and was even more bedazzled, with a high collar and a tightly buttoned jacket. His shoes were almost identical to Tseng’s. Rufus grinned when he saw Tseng.

“You look beautiful,” he said. So _that’s_ what this was about. He assumed it was about possession, about showing that he had a tight leash on the Turks, that they were his own personal fleet of covert agents, but he had no idea it was about _that_. He flushed noticeably.

Rufus grabbed him so that their bodies were flush, and the curtains opened as if on command (probably on command) and music started up. It was strange for a ballroom dance song, although it had all the instruments one might expect. It was modern with a nod to an old age of tradition, which Tseng supposed was what Rufus chose it for. It had a background orchestra of angelic voices and there was a distinct base.

Rufus led him onto the wide floor and moved quickly. Tseng struggled to keep up while trying not to look down. Rufus slowed at the appropriate parts, dipped Tseng at particularly heavy beats, and twirled him so his hair went flying around like a black umbrella.The whole time Rufus’s eyes were locked on Tseng’s and a smile was on his face that said “I own you; you are mine”. Tseng was forced to look back. His heart was in his throat. The song seemed to go on forever, but when it was done, Rufus dipped Tseng dramatically and pulled his leg up high into the air, which Tseng wasn’t prepared for, but he kept his balance. The crowd erupted into applause, and Tseng was panting as Rufus pulled him back up into his arms. As he pulled him up, he drew him even closer and handed him a keycard. “I expect you to show up later,” he said, leaning up to say it into his ear, and then he pulled away to circle around the guests. Tseng looked at the card briefly. It was a hotel keycard to the most expensive hotel in Junon, which was already a rich seaport city. He slipped it into his jacket pocket and went to go find Reno.

All of the Turks were stationed at key areas, mostly overhead, blending in like spiders, seeming to have eight eyes. He found Reno at the top of a spiraling staircase, draped across it with his Electro-mag rod tapping idly over his shoulder, exuding a kind of easy confidence. One might question why he was perched so high when his weapon was short range, but Reno was proficient in lightning Materia. Proficient enough to target one single person or a wide berth, and he was _fast_ and able to jump and run up sides of buildings with almost an inhuman ability. He could reach a target in seconds if he couldn’t use magic to disarm or kill, because he was highly proficient in tapping into the _degree_ of the strength of the attack. He was not as proficient with other Materia, but he stuck with what he was good at.

“That was, uh, pretty clear,” Reno said, putting it mildly for him. He could have been much more indecent.

“Yes, well. There was nothing I could do about it.”

“Didn’t know you could dance,” Reno said slyly.

“I can’t,” Tseng said.

“Did a _pretty_ convincing job.”

“I was on the chopping block.”

“You think Rufus would off the Director of his little army?”

“I’m expendable in his eyes.”

“Doubt it,” Reno smirked.

“And what makes you think that?”

“Dude, he wants to fuck the shit out of you. Yeah, it was total peacocking bullshit, like, look who I own type shit. But like. He’s gonna fuck you. And there won’t be a damn thing you’ll be able to say about it. I’d say I’m jealous, because you’re _mine_ , but there’s not a damn thing I can do about it either.”

“He gave me a keycard. For tonight. To the most expensive hotel in Junon.”

“Well, that confirms my theory, doesn’t it?”

“Ugh. I’m going to go detail the front door.”

Reno wiggled his fingers. “See ya, Rufus’s boy toy,” he smirked. Tseng gave him a sharp look, then started down the stairs, taking two at a time.

When he got to the bottom Rufus was waiting with a cocktail in one of those obnoxious martini-like glasses.

“A reward,” Rufus said, “for doing _so well_.”

“No thanks. I don’t really drink,” Tseng said, trying to brush past him.

“You do now,” Rufus insisted, pushing the drink into Tseng’s hand. Tseng took it, sniffed it. It was strong and sweet smelling, an almost red looking orange color.

“What is it?”

“It’s called a Martinez. It’s a twist on a classic Martini. It has gin and sweet vermouth rather than dry but also maraschino liqueur. It’s delicious. Slightly sweet, slightly bitter. An ensemble, if you will. Complicated, like you.”

Tseng blinked, not knowing what to say to that.

“Sip it.”

Tseng took a sip. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. When he _did_ drink, which was not very often, he tended to drink straight drinks, like scotch or whiskey, hard hitting liquors to help him sleep. He didn’t drink mixed drinks. And he drank the top shelf stuff, the stuff that went down smooth. Nothing like the kinds of liquors sold in bars, which he’d never be caught dead in.

“Finish,” Rufus smiled. “I’ll find you for another.”

Tseng saw no point in detailing if he was going to be drinking but he didn’t know what else to do. Who would he even talk to? Then he saw Scarlet of all people walking over to him. She was wearing a slinky black sequin dress that was so form fitting and spaghetti strap that it left little to the imagination. He took a big gulp of the drink, preparing for a _very_ awkward conversation. Scarlet didn’t talk to Turks. She had people to do that.

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance,” Scarlet said. She had a dirty martini in her hand and she plucked out an olive to very suggestively eat it in front of Tseng.

“I don’t,” Tseng said, sipping at his drink again.

“Oh, you could have fooled me. I wonder what _else_ you can do.”

“Assassinate terrorists,” Tseng said dryly.

Scarlet laughed in that dramatic way she always did, hand on her chest.

“I bet I could get you to see stars,” Scarlet smirked.

“Not interested,” Tseng said, taking another drink poignantly.

“Oh, I see. You’re gay. That’s okay, sweetie, I’ve fucked men who _thought_ they were gay. I’m so good in bed it doesn’t matter what your preference is. And I’ll get you to eat me out, too.”

“Not. Interested.” This time Tseng said it in such a hostile way that it might make other people shiver and retreat, but this was _Scarlet_.

“Oh dear, you’re wound _quite_ tightly, aren’t you? You need some good pussy and you’ll be right as rain. And I can assure you, mine is the best.”

“I thought something smelled like fish,” Tseng said pointedly. Scarlet recoiled then slapped Tseng hard across the face. So hard his head jerked back. But he got what he wanted. Scarlet stomped away. He touched his face. It was slightly warm. Perhaps there would be a palm print. Not ideal, but that whole ordeal was strange. Scarlet had _never_ come on to him before. Why now?

When he finished his drink and set it aside, as if on cue, Rufus came by with another. The hand print was apparently obvious, because he had to recount what happened.

“Oh Scarlet,” Rufus laughed. “She thinks she can fuck _anyone_.” Rufus was one to talk.

This whole drink thing repeated until he told Rufus if he had any more he wouldn’t make it to the hotel, so Rufus backed off. Tseng was drunk and now he felt like he was vulnerable in a pit of vipers, so he left without telling anybody.

He roamed the streets of Junon, trying hard to concentrate on his steps and location, so he knew he was _very_ drunk. He went to the hotel room after grabbing a few water bottles from the vending machine and keyed in. He sat on the bed drinking them, and when they were empty, he got up to throw them out and laid on the bed. The ceiling was spinning. He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep until the door to the room opened. He had no idea how much time had elapsed, but he was still drunk. He could feel that with certainty.

“Mm, you kept the suit on. Good. I get to unwrap you like a present. And I deserve a present.”

Tseng didn’t say anything. He just laid there. He wanted to get this over with.

“Oh, don’t be a cold fish.”

“I’m pretty drunk. I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“I wanted to loosen you up. Make you enjoy yourself.”

“Sir, with no disrespect, I have to do what you want me to do. Including this.”

“Are you implying this is rape, Tseng?” Rufus asked. “Choose your next words very carefully.”

“I am devoted to my president. I will serve him in any way he wishes,” Tseng said.

“Hm. Better. But you can do even better than that.”

“Undress me, sir,” Tseng said, his head still tilted up.

“Look at me,” Rufus said as he got up on the bed. Tseng’s eyes followed Rufus’s movement.

Rufus untied and pulled off Tseng’s shoes, tugged off the garters that held his socks up and then his socks themselves, then got back on the bed, straddling Tseng and looking down into his eyes.

“You’re so lovely. So devoted. So good at your job. I’ve wanted you for years. Did you not feel the magic between us when we danced, so perfectly in sync? Is there anything you’re not perfect at Tseng?

“It made me hard, the way you just flowed with me, looking into your honey brown eyes. Such an interestingly light brown color for a man of Wutain descent. I wonder how it feels to be owned by a company that slaughtered so many of your people?”

“This is my home,” Tseng said, not taking the bait.

“Good answer,” Rufus purred. “I can count on you to be _so_ loyal. Now can I count on you to beg?”

Tseng almost had a physical reaction. He never begged. Rufus could see the warring emotion in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, you will.” He leaned down and kissed Tseng powerfully, dominantly. Tseng responded to the kiss. This was just another dance. He had to dance. He had to make all the right moves.

Rufus began to loosen the bow tie, throwing it off the side of the bed, then everything else, smooth and looking up at Tseng as he did so. Once his chest was revealed, Rufus kissed down his neck and chest, sucking and biting at both nipples, hard enough that they would bruise later and that he got a cry out of Tseng, who arched up off the bed.

“Mm, beautiful,” Rufus growled, pulling the rest of the top half of Tseng’s clothes off, which took literal minutes and was entirely ridiculous. Rufus’s hands traveled up and down his chest and stomach.

“Such a beautiful man. And your hair fanned out like that on the pillow is really quite stunning. Like a classy whore. Will you give yourself to me?”

“I have been yours for years.”

“Oh, Tseng, you know exactly what to say for every question, don’t you? I wonder how much of it is true. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because you _are_ mine.” He began undoing Tseng’s pants and pulled them down with his underwear, tossing them off the bed. Rufus tutted.

“Not hard yet. Shall we change that?” Rufus turned to the side, laid flat on his belly, took the base of Tseng’s cock in his mouth and started to lick and suck it, then slurp it down when it began to harden. Tseng turned his face away. He could think about Reno, but that would be wrong and sad and make things worse, so he just tried to make his mind blank and focus on the physical feelings. When he was fully hard Rufus popped his cock out of his mouth. “Very nice.”

He stood and stripped quickly, impatiently. His cock was hard, nestled against his stomach, and it was above average size but nothing too big. He had no pubic hair. Of course not. He was groomed within an inch of his life.

“There’s lube in that drawer,” Rufus pointed. “Prepare yourself so I can watch.”

Tseng hesitated.

“Do it.”

Tseng extracted the lube, shifted up a little bit, drew his legs up and let them fall open, then coated his fingers. He inserted two fingers, hooked them, found his prostate, let his head fall back a little and after a little bit of fucking himself with his two fingers he inserted a third, fucking himself with all three.

Rufus climbed over Tseng, physically removing his hand from inside himself, then dragged Tseng down a little, grabbed his legs, pulled them up over his shoulders, lubed his cock up, then thrusted inside him, hilting himself inside. Tseng winced. Even though Rufus wasn’t huge, that always hurt a little at first because he wasn’t used to it, and he was already tense, especially with his legs that high up.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Rufus growled. “Beg me to fuck you.”

”Fuck me, sir,” Tseng panted.

“Again. With feeling.”

“Fuck me!” Tseng cried, arching.

“Mmm. Better.”

Rufus began thrusting inside. Tseng grabbed at the sheets of the bed and tilted his head back, whining. He was so tense it hurt.

“Look up,” Rufus panted. “Look at me. Look in my eyes.”

Tseng lifted his head and looked into Rufus’s eyes, his brown meeting Rufus’s blue. Rufus’s eyes were hazy with pleasure, Tseng’s filled with pain.

Rufus reached down and began to stroke Tseng’s flagging erection. “Loosen. Up. I’ve plied you with drinks. I know you’re still drunk. Use that. Relax for me. It will feel good. Do it.” The threat was implied.

Tseng gasped as he started hardening again, doing exactly that, releasing the tension he felt.

“Much better,” Rufus soothed, rocking his hips into Tseng slower, then increasingly faster, making sure to jerk him off in tandem. Tseng’s brows furrowed as it started to feel good, his fingers still gripping the bed. Then Rufus momentarily took his hand off Tseng’s cock to physically move Tseng’s arms around him, returning to stroking his cock and pounding inside.

Tseng raked his nails down Rufus’s back as Rufus ramped up inside him. His thrusts grew more and more erratic, and he was stroking Tseng hard and fast and frantic.

“Come,” Rufus gasped. “Fucking come for me.”

And Tseng did, arching up off the bed. Rufus came hard inside him, crying out loudly. Then he flopped beside Tseng panting for a little bit. “Go shower,” Rufus said, waving his hand.

So Tseng went to shower.

When he returned he had a towel wrapped around his hips and he was trying to dry as much water out of his hair as possible.

He thought he’d heard the door when he was washing himself, and he was right. Rufus was waiting with champagne.

“To celebrate my ascension.”

Tseng looked at him.

“I’m going to shower and then we’ll have bubbly. It will be chilled by then.

Tseng sat at the edge of the bed. He contemplated texting Reno to come bail him out, but that wouldn’t work. He just wanted to leave. The whole experience was nauseating. Then he realized he was actually nauseous. So nauseous he was going to throw up. He knocked on the door to the bathroom frantically.

“What?” Rufus said sharply.

“Sir, I need to come in.”

“Fine.”

Then Tseng scrambled onto his knees and threw up into the toilet. It was a lot, and he retched, his fingers trembling around the bowl.

“Ugh. Go the fuck to where the Turks are staying. Next time I’ll remember you can’t handle liquor.”

Next time?

  
  



End file.
